


Special Projects

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Brief CATWS mention, Brief Peggy Carter mention, Chocolate, Conspiracies, Conspiracy Theories, Diner chat, Friendtagonism, Games, Gen, Implied Relationship, Lanyard giving, Life at the Playground, New Rules, New SHIELD, Onboarding, Paranoia, Speculation, Supply Room wall, Team Building, recruiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I liked Agent Blake and his dropping hints about Zodiac made me think he's not as straight-laced as he seemed.  So, I decided to write some speculative fic about his being recruited by Coulson and becoming the conspiracy agent in the new SHIELD a la Fox Mulder on the X-Files or the Question on Justice League.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Offer

"You ever heard of Zodiac?"

"Blake, I called you, remember?"

"Yeah, Coulson, you're trying to recruit me. But, I'll bet you're short a few guys, so I'm going to make my pitch first."

Felix Blake took the cup of coffee off the diner table and sipped it, made a sad face and put it back down.

"Told you we should've gone for the food truck."

"Do you know what Zodiac does?" asked Blake.

"No," said Coulson.

"It's still around," said Blake. "Romanov and Rogers came across it just before SHIELD went down. Rumlow was with them."

"Meaning, HYDRA," Coulson sighed.

"The other thing, this stuff's been around since '46," he said. He waited to see what Coulson would do.

"Yup," he replied.

"Yup, you know, or yup, whatever?" asked Blake.

"I know Agent Carter took it into possession, pretty cool story," he said. "That's when Stark brought her on."

"Hey, don't give me a SHIELD history lesson. Did you know we never sent it upstairs to burn?"

They paused for a moment as the waitress came and put a plate of pancakes in front of Coulson. He smiled warmly at her.

"Thank you, Bettie. Do you have any blueberry syrup, by chance?"

She winked at him. "Let me look. Refill?" she asked, looking at Blake through her horn-rimmed glasses. 

He waved his hand over the top of the cup. Watched her walk away.

"Who's interviewing who?" asked Coulson smugly.

"I am. Did you know where SHIELD had the Zodiac?"

"No. Level 8, remember?"

"My specialty," said Blake, "Are the things that slip through the cracks."

"That was never your specialty," deadpanned Coulson.

"My NEW specialty," said Blake, "Are the things that slip through the cracks." 

He pursed his lips and folded his hands neatly on the table in front of him. Waited.

"So, you want me to give you access to unlimited resources, alien technology, and a team of experts, so you can look for Bigfoot?"

"Unlimited? You're working the upsell a little hard there, Mr. Director."

Bettie came back with a frowny face and some raspberry syrup.

"That's great," Coulson shrugged as she put it down. He smiled vaguely, waited until she left.

"Blake," he said, putting both palms down on the table, "I need feet on the ground right now. Not people chasing special projects."

"You are a special project," said Blake.

"Cold hearted," replied Coulson.

"By the way, I never asked," Blake started, his eyebrows raising.

"Don't," started Coulson.

"The Consultant...Agent..."

Coulson rubbed his eyes. He went there.

"I mean, I've seen you work the system before," said Blake leaning over. "But forcing Hand to give your Consultant Agent status? That was a brilliant play."

"She must be, what? Assistant Director by now?"

Coulson's eyes shot open, glared back at Blake.

"Hey, your SHIELD, your business," he continued, putting his hands up.

"If you're insinuating that Skye making agent was because of anything less than her dedication and personal sacrifice to our team..."

"Relax, I just know which button to push," Blake said slyly. "You know, for awhile there, I thought you were the Clairvoyant. Unorthodox behavior, for example, setting up your Rising Tide girl with SHIELD access," he replied. 

"Yes, and while you were sleeping, Hand was putting my Bus full of bullets based on that helpful theory."

Blake sighed.

"What I need is some autonomy, Coulson," he said. "I get cagey when I'm trapped at HQ. My head starts going places." 

"You're a good analyst, Blake," he said, blowing off steam, "But, I can't have you off on your own. We're not working that way anymore."

Coulson poured the raspberry syrup over the top of the pancakes, looked at the butter on top. Betrayal. Unmelted. The pancakes had gone cold.

Blake suddenly brightened up. "What about May?" he asked.

"What about her?" said Coulson slowly.

"We've worked together before, I like how she operates. She's straight. And I know she can keep me in line."

"Now who's angling?" asked Coulson, smirking. He pushed the pancakes away from him.

"Zodiac is more than just a weapon," Blake said. He took a flash drive out of his pocket and put it on the table. 

"What will this cost me?" asked Coulson.

"A decent cup of coffee."

Coulson put his hand over the flash drive, slid it off the table and into his pocket.

"You're on."


	2. Supply and Demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake enters the Playground.

"Who left the front door open?" 

"Melinda," he said, overly friendly, handling a stapler as he turned to face her. 

May had been watching Blake unpack his box of office odds and ends into the cubicle from a safe distance.

Skye walked past them and grinned. "Agent Blake," she said, welcoming. "Oh, have you seen Agent Koenig about your lanyard yet?" She exchanged a look with May. "He's really excited about onboarding," she explained, a strange expression passing over her. "So, just try to be patient with him."

"Agent Skye," said Blake eyeing her, then muttering, "At least someone around here is friendly."

Skye caught May's eyes briefly to watch them roll as she turned and left in the opposite direction. 

"So, you landing here for awhile?" she asked.

"Looks so."

"What brought that on?" May asked skeptically.

"Heard the coffee's good," he said, putting the stapler down on the desk.

"It's fantastic," said May, turning away and walking off.

Blake smirked and put his automated pencil sharpener on the desk, looked for the nearest plug.

****

"Blake is a wild card," May said sternly, looking over at Coulson. "His last recommendation almost got us killed."

They were in his office and Skye was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk, pretending to work on her holopad while they argued. In the past, she would've just walked out when she felt the tension building, but not these days. Skye stayed put. 

It was a bit distracting, she'd have to adjust to the fact that someone else had moved into that more personal hemisphere. And just a continuation of something that had started some time ago, only now, not hidden. 

"Blake was suspicious because Fury asked him to be."

"Is that what Blake told you?" May replied to Coulson. "Fury? I called Maria," May began, "She said that Blake wandered off the farm and that Fury was worried about having to reign him back in."

"Good for Hill," shot back Coulson, crossing his arms.

May just shook her head at him. He was being stubborn now. Still touchy about Maria going over to Stark Industries and leaving him with this.

"When Fury said he didn't trust anyone, that included Maria," he said, his tone slightly elevated. "It included everyone."

Skye raised her eyebrows. This was going about as well as expected. Critical mass had been hit, thankfully. 

May wasn't sure what to say in reply or where he was going with this. 

"May, Fury didn't just ask Blake to keep his eyes open, he asked him to infiltrate HYDRA."

"What?" May said, narrowing her eyes. That, was unexpected.

Skye swung around her holopad to May, handed it to her.

May took it, slowly began reviewing it.

"One of the things in the Toolbox," she said, "were these files. Files on every top secret, paranoid, wild hair project that Nick Fury had going. Everything he compartmentalized."

May blinked a few times, looked down at the reams of information on the holopad.

"This is..."

"Overwhelming," Skye said to her.

May looked over at Coulson. 

"We need him," he said.

 

****

 

"What is the difference between an egg and a rock?" asked Koenig, thrilled. Just thrilled. 

A new recruit.

"Time," answered Blake.

Koenig stared back at him. Weird. Cool. 

"You wash up on a deserted island alone. Sitting on the sand, there is a box. What is in...that box?" asked Koenig.

"January 1981 issue of Playboy," Blake began. "Mint. Then, a set of magnets capable of..."

Koenig snickered. "Wait. Really, dude?"

"John and Yoko interview," he shrugged. "Plus, Stephen King wrote a story for it. Sheesh."

"Uh huh," Koenig deadpanned. Then continued.

"It has everything I need," said Blake, sniffing dismissively.

"SHIELD no longer exists. It has been labelled a terrorist organization. So, why are you here?"

"Because HYDRA still exists," said Blake. "And HYDRA must be stopped."

"Cool," said Koenig, powering down the chair. "Let's get them."

He moved over to unstrap Blake. Blake barely moved, just watched all of his gestures, the speed of his movements, tics.

"What are you? A robot?" he asked.

"I'm recommending you for full psych analysis," said Koenig, upbeat, walking around and tapping his holodesk.

"Of course you are," Blake said, looking away. "You enjoy herding people, right? Always moving them back into the pen."

"You are a sheep and not a wolf, I hope," said Koenig, warning, finishing his report on the desk.

"Just too dumb to turn back," said Blake, walking out of the room.

 

****

"Hey, kid," Blake said to Skye. "You know where we keep the supplies?"

"Um," Skye said, frowning, "First things first, I have a name..."

"Sorry," Blake said raising his hand. "Habit. We just called all the 20-somethings kid back at HQ."

"You got your lanyard," Skye said, looking at the card hanging from his neck. "Congrats."

"Supplies?" he asked again. Too chipper.

"Sure," Skye said slowly. "Anyway, the room is down the hall, all the way at the end, take a right, first door on your left."

Blake started to turn away, then turned back to her.

"You seem slightly normal," Blake said. "Why is that?"

"Maybe because I didn't spend my entire life working for SHIELD?" she answered sweetly, glancing down at her holopad. Coulson wanted her. She tapped the   
notice.

"You mean HYDRA, too," he said. "Wasn't just SHIELD that whole time."

"Right," Skye said. "Look, this is a great group of people. You just have to get to know us."

"Coulson tell you everything?" he asked.

Right to the point.

"Pretty much," she said. "We're going to have a game night later."

"Game night?"

"My idea." She smiled, obviously impressed with herself. "Monopoly."

Blake's eye twitched.

"Monopoly was based the philosophy of Henry George, until 1935 when Charles Darrow subverted its premise and subsequently it has been used to teach generations that it's fun to be robber barons. Did you know that?"

Skye's eyebrow was up.

"Huh. No. But we definitely need better games," she started walking away. "Don't bring that up at game night!" she suggested, wagging a finger back at him. 

"And we should definitely talk."

Cute kid. Better watch himself around her. Coulson's eyes and ears, and who knows what else. And way too normal. 

Just not possible in their world. 

****

"Coulson thinks Fury knew that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD for some time."

She was sitting in the open cargo door of the Bus, beer in hand. 

They both were. The had run into each other here, hoping to escape game night. 

Blake was drinking a cup of coffee. Again. 

May wondered how many he'd had today. Every time she had seen him there was a mug in his hand.

"He's right. He had me lifting the corners of the mat, so to speak, peeking underneath. It made it hard to keep friends, I'll tell you that much."

"And what did you find?" she asked.

"These guys, they were more than just a rogue science division. They're into a lot of weird stuff. And when I say weird, I mean uh...," he glanced over at her, looked a little rattled. "Nevermind. But I was always two steps behind them."

"Now we know why," she said.

"But they made sure to let me know that they knew I was there."

"What do you mean?" 

"Leaving behind little totems. Bits of info. Just toying with me, making me have to dig even deeper, look at stranger and stranger things in order to follow their trail." 

He swallowed. "You can't erase what you've seen, you know. Once it's already in your head."

May nodded.

"Did they put anyone on you?" she asked.

"You mean to watch me, like they did with you and Ward?" 

He watched her face twitch. Huh. So, okay. That was real personal, then.

"The more time I spent away from HQ, the more I saw Sitwell, now that you mention it. So yeah, probably him. Never liked Sitwell."

"When you asked me what sign I was," May began. "Was that some kind of test?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Blake.

May looked at him sideways. "When we went to the hospital looking for the Clairvoyant," she said. "I thought you were hitting on me."

"Did you," he said, the beginnings of smile tugging at his face. 

May took a sip of her beer, looked at him over the bottle.

"Yeah. Zodiac. Coulson's going to let me keep chasing that. Terrorist group. They like to use code names that are star signs."

"Sounds like it ought to keep you busy, then," May said, stretching, getting to her feet.

"Yes. And I was hitting on you. Sometimes I get my wires crossed."

He smiled at her briefly, let his face fall back to neutral.

"I'm not your speed, Blake," she said.

"To be determined," he answered.

"You're starting to sound optimistic," she said, walking down the cargo door to the hangar.

"Don't forget to turn the lights off," she threw back.

The mug had reached bottom. It was time for another pour. He had lots of work to do. Lots of folders to start. His next move would be to get his office switched to the supply room, but he'd wait a little before pressing that.

But, the coffee here was fantastic.


	3. Intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate mysteries and team building games.

She was eating chocolate again.

Small square, he never saw the wrapper.

Correlation: always related to stress.

She had just come from a meeting with Coulson. 

Noted.

"Hey, what's up with the chocolate?" he asked as she passed by.

"What?" she stopped, squinting at him.

He was pretty sure he wasn't Skye's favorite.

Mostly because she made him uncomfortable and he always, always, looked at her like she was from another planet. Because, for the last six months he had been living on planet TRUST NO ONE. And he had trusted no one, under any circumstances, and certainly not people who answer questions that directly.

Coulson had told him (when he had asked to move his office to the supply room - the answer was "no" - so he had changed tactics) that "Skye wears her heart on her sleeve." He had said it with a little smartass smirk, flipped through something on his holodesk, looked up at Blake as if to ask "Are we done here"?

People at HQ had either loved Coulson, or hated him. He thought about it for a moment. Probably the HYDRA guys that hated him, because sometimes you never knew exactly where you stood with Coulson. It made them uncomfortable. And, HYDRA guys could dish it out, but all his experience had taught him they really couldn't take it.

"Hello?" Skye said, waving her hand in front of him, as he clicked back into the present.

"Sorry," he blinked. "Anyway, where are you guys hiding all the chocolate?"

"I'm sure it's around. Ask Koenig."

So. She wasn't going to answer that, or, she didn't know? 

Because Coulson always gave her the chocolate?

"Coulson?" asked Blake.

Skye just raised her eyebrow at him, shrugged and walked off.

Ding. We have a winner.

****

"Agent Blake, Agent BLAKE," said Triplett, leaning over his desk, water bottle in hand, towel around his neck. Obviously coming from a sparring session with May. 

Oh, the perks of being a specialist.

"I have something you might find interesting."

Now this kid, he liked. Classy and never too on the nose. He was perfect to talk to, because he observed everything, and despite his upbeat personality, Blake had read several cues that Trip had is own definite ideas about things.

"Hit me up," he said, tapping his pencil on the desk.

Trip laid the old photograph in front of him, slid it over.

"This came from one of my buddies, he's in the CIA now. Said it was in their archives."

"Underground. What are those markings?" he asked, leaning over looking at it. 

He opened his desk, got out a magnifying lens.

"Right under Manhattan?"

"Really?! Photo paper looks late 50s. Any notes? The photographer?"

"Nope," Trip said. "Said it was buried in the back of a file cabinet, tucked in the back. It had the words 'Sub and Manhattan' written on the back."

Blake and Trip both looked up to see Skye staring at them.

She was frowning, popped a piece of chocolate in her mouth. Chewed.

"Hey, Skye," said Trip, friendly.

"Hi," she said, smiling over at him, the frown disappearing. "What are you guys up to? You look sneaky." She said it in a teasing way.

"Just showing Blake an old photo of some caves under Manhattan," he said, tilted his head at her. "You doing alright?"

"Stressed," she said, relaxing her shoulders. "So much work to do. And Coulson's a robot. Never gets tired."

"You just have to remind him," said Trip. "Man forgets when he gets his head down in it."

"Good point," she said, tipping her finger at him. "I'll see you guys later?"

"What's later?" Blake asked quickly. Had he forgotten something important?

"Game night," she said.

Blake rolled his eyes.

"I only invited the fun people this time," Skye said sarcastically. "So Blake, you're off the hook."

Trip grinned. "I'm in. Just gotta hit the showers, first." He hefted his water bottle at her.

"Great. See you later, then," she gave Blake a look before walking off.

"Chocolate," Blake said.

"What?" Trip asked, focusing back on their conversation.

"Where is she getting the chocolate?"

"Oh, that," Trip smiled. "That's a thing."

Blake slowly smiled. Trip.

"Care to explain?" Blake asked.

"Well," said Trip, talking more softly, "When all that stuff with Garrett went down, Skye escaped from Ward and Deathlok, with Coulson, and we regrouped. She had been through a lot. I think Ward made things very personal."

"Yeah, that situation would shake up anyone," agreed Blake. He was thinking about that lowlife Sitwell.

"It was when SHIELD had just gone down, so we were staying at this crappy motel in L.A. It was night, we were all trying to chill, wind down, but, she was not doing well. Could just see it, y'know?"

Blake nodded so he would continue.

"So, I tried to talk to her, keep it light, but it was written on her face, because, I'm good for that. Then Coulson comes out, and he gives me this face. Not like, beat it, son, or anything, but...just enough so I know he wants to talk with her. Alone." 

He paused. Blake knew Trip liked to tell stories. His grandfather had, too.

"And I take my bag of chips and go over to Fitzsimmons, start to chat," he said.

Right. Thought Blake. No ulterior motives, there. He'd seen Trip around Simmons. He'd seen Simmons around Trip.

"But, I'm keeping one eye open," he went on. "Coulson's fishing around in the vending machine drawer. Giving her this look. And he sits down, and takes off the wrapper, and then hands it to her. Just one little square."

Chocolate.

"So, it's like their thing, you know? I like Coulson's style. He's good with people. Knows what they need."

Trip unscrewed the top off his water, took a satisfying sip.

"Yeah," said Blake. "You know what's also a thing? Phenylethylamin and seratonin, both found in chocolate. Works like an aphrodisiac. You should ask Simmons about it sometime."

Trip sputtered the water onto the carpet.

"Wrong pipe?" asked Blake as Trip coughed. "Do I need to administer CPR?"

Trip put his hand out, took a breath. "No, man. No."

****

When Coulson had told him "no" about office space in the supply room, he had just figured Coulson wanted to keep things neat.

Blake didn't expect that Coulson was hiding something.

A BIG something.

He stared at the wall.

There was not a scenario for this that didn't involve his brain frying. He couldn't process it right now.

He stopped looking at it, and shut the light off, exited the door, quietly pulling it behind him.

Bumped right into Coulson.

"Blake," Coulson said tersely.

"Coulson," he replied, stared down at the man.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"What are you?" Blake replied.

Coulson swallowed. "Good a question as any."

"You going to let anyone know about this?"

"Some of them know," he said defensively.

Blake looked away, nodded. "Skye," he said.

"Okay, everyone," Coulson fessed up. "Except for you."

Blake raised his eyebrows.

"I was going to share it, but, in your state," he began, shrugged. "I thought I'd ease you into it, let you recalibrate first."

Blake smiled a little. Trip was right about Coulson, wasn't he?

"You want my help with this?" Blake offered.

"Of course," Coulson said. "I need answers."

****

"You didn't tell me game night involved Single Malt Sullivan's Cove," said Blake, impressed.

"Well, prepare to be amazed," said Skye, looking up at him standing in the doorway.

"Come on in," said Fitz. "Have a seat, just getting started."

"Prepare to be destroyed," said Koenig.

"I can do destroyed, just hand me that bottle," said Blake sitting down.

"Lighten up, Koenig," said Coulson, looking over at him.

"Is that an order, sir?" asked Koenig, suddenly alert.

"Yes," said several people at the same time.

"You don't destroy people in Apples To Apples, anyway," said Simmons, already a bit giggly. "It's all in good fun."

Blake looked around. "Where's May?" he asked.

Coulson and Skye exchanged a look.

Those two twits.

"I'll go get her," Skye said, standing and heading out the door.

"She's probably hiding out in the hangar," Blake tossed over his shoulder.

"Threw her right under the Bus," Coulson smirked. It was a dig.

"Hey, man," said Trip, holding up his drink. "After about three of these," he said, "We'll all be under the Bus."

"It's what separates the boys from the men," said Koenig.

Simmons made a disgusted face.

"And the ladies from...," Koenig said quickly, going for the save.

"Digging you a very deep hole," finished Blake.

Simmons looked up at him, a small smile forming.

 

****

Fitz handed out the cards, a serious expression on his face.

"You all know how this works," he said. "The winner," he began. Stopped. Turned to Skye. "What does the winner get?"

"The winner gets..." she said dramatically. "This bar of premium chocolate," she said, holding it above her head. "Courtesy of Director Coulson."

"Rude!" said Jemma, looking scandalously at Coulson. "You have a chocolate stash?"

"It's Mast Brothers. Costs, like $10 a bar," he challenged. "Madagascar vanilla and toasted marshmallows," he said, wistfully.

"And your sacrifice is commendable," said Skye.

"Let's do this thing," Trip said, clapping his hands together.

The green card said: Important.

Blake looked around the seating, he really didn't know these people well. Guess this game was the point. Get to know them, they get to know me. May had sat next to him, but was leaning away. Which, didn't really surprise him, did it?

Body language was all pointing towards the door. An escape.

Each person put their red cards down in turn in front of Fitz.

He turned them over, read them, put them down on the table one by one.

"'Socks'?," he laughed. "'Baking cookies', please, Jemma. 'The San Andreas Fault'? I mean, what?...'BB Guns' well, weapon, easy guess there," he said, eyeing May. 'Worms' ew, 'Paul McCartney and Wings' don't get that really, and last but not least, 'Rainbows'."

"Well?" Skye asked.

"Definitely going with socks."

"You love my cookies, Fitz!" protested Simmons.

"Yes!" said Coulson, leaning over and grabbing the green card.

"Socks?" Skye said, looking over at him. 

"They are important," he said, very serious.

"But who put rainbows?" said Fitz, taking a sip of his drink. "Skye?"

"Not me," she said.

May smiled.

"Blake, you're up," she said, as he drew a green card, turned it over.

The card read: Handsome.

This would probably go south fast. He watched their faces, some were very good, he was making a note right now to never play poker with anyone except Koenig and Simmons.

They quickly slapped their cards on the table. The women had put them down right away, the men had lingered a bit. 

"Okay," Blake started, eyeing the cards, "Uh, 'Race Car Drivers', 'Suit & Tie'," he just shook his head. Not even subtle. "'Dolly Parton' not touching that with a 10 foot pole."

"Wow," Coulson said, chuckling, taking a sip.

"'Captain Kirk' perfectly understandable," he continued. "'Flannel Shirts' got it, 'Fuzz' hmmm, 'Gym Teachers'."

"Gotta go with gym teachers," he said. "Because, there's a whole story right there. And I want to hear it."

"No story," said May, leaning over and taking the card. "Just intuition."

Blake laughed quietly. Okay.

"Dolly Parton?" asked Coulson, leaning back into the couch.

"Well, they ARE handsome," said Fitz after a moment.

"Oh, Fitz..." said Simmons.

May drew the green card. 

It said: Huge.

"Oh, dear..." said Simmons.

****

"Coulson gets to keep his chocolate after all," Blake said, looking past May at Coulson chatting with Skye.

Their body language said it all.

They were sharing more than chocolate. 90% sure. He would leave the 10% open for some really implausible explanation, because, you just never know in this line of work.

"Hey, Coulson is the only one who knew I had a huge poison ivy rash after our Carolinas field mission back in the 90s. Sometimes, that's how you win the game."

"Not exactly fair for new players," he said.

She ignored his whine. "Now, that, is a story."

"And I want to hear it," he said, smiling over at her. 

After that nice start, it was heading towards awkward. He didn't really know how to get the momentum going.

"'Dirty socks' over there will have to find another way to send their coded messages to each other," he started, going the safe route.

"Dirty socks aren't even huge," she said, flatly.

"Neither are rainbows important," he said.

"Yes they are," she challenged.

"There a story there?"

"No," she said. "But I could make one up."


End file.
